


JangObi Week 2021 Day 1

by Ewina



Series: JangObi Week 2021 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jangobi Week, Jangobi Week 2021, M/M, Mand'alor Jango Fett, Minor Character Death, No Beta, Non-Consensual Drug Use, OOC Satine Kryze, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, enemies to crushes, mention of sexual slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewina/pseuds/Ewina
Summary: I will try to fill as many of the Jangobi Week's prompts I can.
Relationships: Jango Fett & Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze, Pre Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: JangObi Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140053
Comments: 2
Kudos: 166
Collections: Jangobi Week





	1. Enemies to lovers part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was not betaed, every mistakes is mine, but if you catch any please don't hesitate to tell me, I will gladly correct them.

Jango hated working for hutts. They paid well and knew what he would do if they dared try to double cross him or go against his moral code, but it didn’t change the fact that working for the slimy slugs was something he loathed. Thankfully this one job should be quick, for him at least, it certainly wouldn’t be for the idiot he was hunting once he brought him to his employer. Only idiots try to renegade on a deal with a hutt and expect to survive it. And sadly for this idiot well, he wasn’t good enough to make Jango even break a sweat hunting him. The duros was still in the same system he did his usual business in and had not even attempted to hide or flee. He would be easy picking and Jango would then be able to take a more interesting mission, something which would raise his adrenaline a bit as he let his predatory instincts run free. 

Finding the idiot on the planet was a tiny bit more complicated. It took him a few hours before he was confident on the location of his target. The duros was apparently hiding in a network of underground tunnels, which meant that Jango would need to hunt him in a place full of holes, where the rat would without a doubt hide once he learned of the mandalorian’s presence. A bloodthirsty smile pulled at his lips as he reveled in the pleasure of the future hunt. He would have the opportunity to play some then, his client had asked for the duros to be alive when brought to him, there was no mention that he had to be unarmed.

When he cornered the snivelling male in a dark corner Jango was annoyed enough that his first thought was to stick the pathetic creature in carbonite and be done with it. His annoyance quickly melted under the boiling fury which grew inside him as he heard the cowardly duros’ business proposition. His speechlessness at hearing what the other male had dared offer him was taken as acceptance and the duros quickly opened the hidden door he had been planning to hide behind to reveal a long corridor, dark and smelling pungently of putrefaction. Jango quickly switched his helmet’s air purifier on as he followed the dead man walking. His rage was simmering and he wanted to break the repulsive creature’s neck as soon as he had spoken but he needed to know, he needed to see and check if his words were true, and if they were.

He felt like throwing up when he finally reached the duros who was grinning victoriously, so sure of his own superiority, so sure he had managed to outbid the hutt he had betrayed. From the corner of his vision Jango could see that the duros was speaking but his focus was almost entirely on the rusted cell in front of him and the pitiful sight of the boy chained in it, for it was a boy. He may have been a jetii, and Jango’s face twisted in disgust at even thinking the word, but it was a kid, just a kid, and he could feel Jaster’s disapprobation when he entertained the thought of letting him there. The boy’s skin looked pale under the dirt, the bruises and the dried blood which coated his forehead and neck. His clothes were ripped and barely held on together by a few threads, but what caught Jango’s attention the most was the way the flickering light would reflect on the russet mane of his hair. Strangely his hair seemed rather clean compared to the rest of his person. 

“and have some fun … breaking him … need training…”

Jango had only caught a few of the words the duros said but those words had turned his fury into an inferno. He hated jedi yes, and would have no qualms about killing one of them if he were to meet one, but this. How dare that lowlife scum? What kind of demagolka did he thought Jango was? What kind of mandalorian would accept that? 

His hand began playing with the handle of his blaster. It would be so quick, he could draw, shoot and resheath his weapon in the time it took the hut’uun to take a breath between two of his repulsive and vile words. But the contract was for the duros to be brought alive and Jango took a deep breath to calm himself. 

A snarl came from the cell and made the coward shut up, for Jango’s greatest pleasure. The boy was awake and obviously drugged to the gills. The duros let out a squeak of fear as the jet’ika threw himself toward the door of the cell, growling and snarling, pupils blown wide. The chain clanged as he was stopped in his movement, choking as he pulled on it and the collar around his throat ripped into the soft flesh, making him bleed anew. He was completely feral, Jango realized, understanding with disgust why exactly the duros had offered him to break the boy. He needed to keep him drugged to stop him from using his bullshit magic, but the drug made him act like an enraged beast. There was no doubt that some had already tried to have their way with him only to get their throat ripped by the rather impressive fangs of the boy. 

“So what do you think of it? You can have some fun with the jedi for a day, and I can go back to do my business, heh? You get to break him before he gets put through training. With his colouring, finding a buyer won’t be hard, and with that pretty face and nice little body, he will go for quite the sum. And that’s without taking into account the number of people who would enjoy lording it over a jedi, let’s see how pure he will be once he has been put through his pace. A pleasure slave needs more than just a nice face and tights holes, what do you think?”

Jango was seeing red, palming his blaster, and begging the Ka’ra to give him the strength not to shoot the smarmy asshole in his karking face, he gritted: “I think that you are going to die, slowly and painfully, and that I will enjoy the view.”

In the time it took for the duros to blink, the bounty hunter had already unsheathed his weapon, turned it to stun and shot once. His aim struck true and the male fell to the ground, unconscious. Turning to face the cell, Jango couldn’t stop the worry from rising as he saw that the boy had curled himself in the corner of his cell, as far away from him as he could, eyes open wide in fear and body shaking, as sweat collected on his brow, the flush on his face a sure sign of illness. The boy was sick, or one of his wounds was infected, no matter what it was, Jango had a hurt ad’ika locked in a cage to free, a terrified one he realized as the boy tried to curl into himself even more when he reached the door of the cell. 

The boy was a jedi, but he was still a boy and Jango wouldn’t raise his hand against a child, no matter where they came from, it was dar’manda to hurt a child and Jango Fett was many things, but he was first and foremost the son and heir of Jaster Mereel, and his buir had raised no demagolka. 

Jango inspected the cell’s door and it’s lock quickly, eager to get away from here. It was an old door, and it’s lock was just as rusted as the rest of the metal in the room. With his mouth pursed in displeasure, the mandalorian frisked his bounty, searching for the keys which would allow him to get the kid free. Having to fetch the object inside the duros’ pants was a humiliation Jango had not expected to have to submit himself to that day, but he had gotten his prize, a small key which was obviously just as rusted as its lock. Disgusting.

The redhead had lost consciousness when Jango reached him, he was shaking like a leaf under the wind and the mandalorian really feared for his survival. As delicately as he could, he brought him into his arms, carrying him against his body the way one would carry a child, one arm under the bum and the other against his back. He had to change his grip to be able to grab the unconscious duros by his leg, and did so with the greatest care, ensuring the small redhead wouldn’t risk falling if he moved too fast. 

It was a hassle but Jango did manage to bring both cargo to his ship without being stopped on the way. The redhead was still unconscious which Jango was really happy about. If it was his choice he would keep him conked out as long as it took to heal him and dump him to his Temple, but he also knew that realistically keeping the boy drugged would do more harm than good. He had no idea how long the kid had spent drugged but the risk of complications was great. The boy would need help getting clean after what he had gone through, and Jango had an intimate knowledge of the symptoms drug withdrawal created. 

His wish was exauced in a way since the redhead stayed unconscious long enough for Jango to drop the duros to his client and leave the planet before he began waking up. The mandalorian felt really strange as he held the shaking body of a jedi against his own as the boy threw up, again and again, still feverish and delirious, eyes unfocused as he cried in fear. It took almost a week for the fever to break, a week filled with tears which left Jango feeling rather poleaxed. He hated jedi, he had wished death on them for so long, waiting for the time he would finally have his revenge, but now, as he comforted the jet’ika, as he crooned children's tales in his ears and rocked him to sleep, he felt lost. For years he had built that image in his head of the jedi as those ruthless and brutal monsters, unfeeling and disdainful creatures who cut through his people and murdered his kin like they were nothing but mere inconveniences, and now he had one of them in his ship. He knew that he may be a kid but he would soon be a grown man, if he wasn’t already. The captivity had not helped the boy when it came to his health, he was rather small and his build was extremely delicate, but his face was rather chiseled despite the gauntness, without any reminders of baby fat. When he first saw him Jango would have given him maybe 15 years old at most, but now, once he was clean and had put back some weight with the IVs and medicine Jango fed him, he looked more around 17, not fully adult, but not a child either, in between, a boy on the cusp of manhood. 

They had almost reached the midrim when the boy finally managed to awaken fully, he was still weak and extremely frail, but his eyes were shining with shereshoy and Jango approached him carefully.

“How are you feeling ad’ika?”

Grumbling, he murmured, voice rough “Not a child”

“Of course, but it doesn’t answer the question. How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened to you?”

“I was caught on a mission, they separated me from Master Jinn, and… and… I don’t remember but they… I was moved a lot.”

“I have healed you to the best of my abilities but you will need to take a dip in a bacta tank when I get you to Coruscant.”

There was a long pause as the boy visibly hesitated.

“Why?”

“Why what? Why help you?”

“Uhu.”

“Because my buire raised me better than to abandon someone to the fate that would have been yours, also, your captor was my target and managed to make me lose my temper.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this wasn't what I had been planning at all, but my brain is so focused on Letters to Home and We will dance on the rooftop that it's what I ended up with. This is not as linear as what I wrote before but the idea was showing that time had passed since the events of the first chapter and they still thought about the other.  
> This is an alternate universe so don't be surprised if some characters are rather ooc. Satine was absolutely not supposed to be part of this but she took over. It's open ended in case I ever find the brain power to add something to it. Also I think I borrowed a few things from other authors, such as the idea of a Yaim'alor being the voice of the people for the Mand'alor but I can't remember where it's from, so if you know, or if it's from your fics, say it, I will give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and all that.

They had reached the Mid Rim when the Slave I was pulled out of hyperspace because of a wandering asteroid, or more exactly Jango realized, by a pirate plot. Since those pirates had apparently not noticed whose ship they had caught, Jango decided to give them a lesson. The fact it would allow him to blow some steam was a non negligible point in favour of wrecking the hut’uune and sending them back snivelling to the hole they had come from. Attaching his ship to the enemy was as easy as getting rid of the filth which had tried to force their way aboard his Firespray. If he showed off to his guest as the younger followed him around, it was no one else’s business. At least until one of the lowlife managed to get in his blind spot and almost stuck a vibroblade between two plates of his armour. The sound of a blaster bolt hitting a body close to him had made him turn on his feet as fast as lightning, expecting his jet’ika to have been hurt, not the dead weequay lying behind him, vibroblade held tightly in his hand. A few meters to the side, the redhead was holding a blaster he must have taken from one of the pirates who had tried to enter the Slave I. It was an alluring sight.

* * *

It had been some time that Jango had brought the jet’ika home but he was still thinking about the boy, well young man. He couldn’t stop wondering how he was, if he was healthy, happy. Not knowing was frustrating him but there was no way he would go to Coruscant to take a look for himself, his opinion on jedi may have progressed to “they may not be all assholes” he still didn’t feel like going straight to the beast’s den.

Sometimes when he woke up cold and alone in his ship, he wished for the young jedi’s presence, so he could hug him again, feeling the soft and warm body against his own had emphasized the lack of touch he had in his life, the loneliness. 

* * *

Obi-Wan had thought about his saviour a lot, since he was brought back home. Learning that his hero had been none other than The Jango Fett, the Jedi Killer, the one man who had every reasons in the galaxy to hate him, but had still helped him instead, had held him as he suffered from the drug withdrawal effects and the illness caused by the infection that had developed, it was… shocking. How could he be the same person? Master had said that saving Obi-Wan and caring for him was simply the ingrained result of Fett’s culture, the need to care and protect children, and maybe it was true. But Obi-Wan knew that even if he had been older, his mandalorian would have still helped him, because Jango Fett hated slavers more than he hated jedi.

* * *

Two years had passed since Jango had last seen the jet’ika and while he still sometimes wondered about him, he had decided to go back to his own life and to his own people. An offhand remark the redhead had pronounced while feverish had struck something inside the bounty hunter and he had felt the need to check, and part of him was terribly cross with himself for forgetting the fact that only some of his verde had been with him on Galidraan, it had been quite a big number but it had not been everyone, and Jango had abandoned those that had stayed behind. They had searched him for years before learning that he was a bounty hunter. Then they had decided to let him work through his grief himself, and waited for him to come back home. It had taken him years, but he had done it, he was back with his people, the Haa’t Mando’ade was re-forming, many verde which had felt stuck between the too soft New Mandalorian or the abhorrent Death Watch were flocking to his side. Strangely enough even the New Mandalorian government had sent him a message, welcoming back home and asking for a meeting between the Mand’Alor and his Yaim’Alor, which was something he had not expected… at all. 

He had read about her, Satine Kryze and she had seemed like nothing but an empty headed pacifist at first, a pretty figurehead the Republic supported and had helped put on her throne, a deception to the Manda. Meeting her was not what he had expected at all. She was not the weak little girl he thought, and was certainly not as extremist as Death Watch tried to make her seem. In fact, Jango agreed with several of her policies. Her refusal to wear beskar’gam did however slightly annoy him. She was his Yaim’alor, she was the representative of his people, and keeping her safe when she refused to wear armour and managed to annoy Death Watch enough to have assassins sent after her every month was exhausting. 

It had taken a few months for Jango to finally manage to get Satine to tell him why exactly she had been so welcoming toward him when most New Mandalorian saw his side as nothing but barbarians, particularly since they regularly butted heads on what Mandalore needed. Hearing that one of the jedi that had protected her was Obi-Wan had been surprising, and annoying, because if he had known that the redhead was on Mandalore he would have come back sooner, if only to be able to see first hand how the younger was. Jango was delighted to know that Obi-Wan had spoken with Satine about him, how he saved him and took care of him, telling him mandalorian children stories, or historical anecdotes. Learning that the redhead had fallen in love with Mandalore had brought a smile to Jango’s face.

* * *

Taking back his duties as Mand’alor had severely diminished Jango’s free time, but Satine and the Council understood his need to go out on his own for a few hunts and always tried to arrange themselves so he could go and blow some steam. The fact that Death Watch was losing more and more ground every day was also deeply satisfying, even if one thing still bothered him. Where in every haran did they manage to get all those credits and beskar? No goran would work with them since their role in Galidraan had been revealed, so why was the armour of all those dar’manda in beskar? And how did they manage to get those top of the line fighters?


End file.
